Travelling With a Child Who Gets Car Sick

It is the long weekend, for some it’s for Easter, others it’s Passover, but for most, its time to spend with family and that is exactly what we are doing this weekend. I am travelling back home to visit my family for the Easter weekend and I have been looking forward to it for the most part except one; my daughter gets car sick.

Since she was very young, my daughter will get car sick regardless of what road we travel, the speed we are going, city driving or highway, if we are in a car, it is almost guaranteed (unless she’s sleeping) that she will get car sick. We have given her children’s Gravol, pressure point bracelets, you name it, we’ve done it. Her and motion, are not good bed fellows. We have a 3 hour bus ride to go on today followed by a 90 minute car ride, so I am almost foreseeing it now. Let me paint you a picture of the last time we travelled.

It was back in October of 2011, when my sister was going to throw a Scorpio birthday extravaganza (my hubby, daughter and mom are all Scorpio’s and their birthdays are relatively close together). We had booked our tickets via Megabus, a far cheaper way to travel. For the three of us 1 way, from Toronto to Kingston was $27, only $9 each! You couldn’t even drive for that amount. Our bags were packed, portable DVD player charged, pyjama’s on, anti-motion medication given and pressure point bracelet on. We simply had to wait for our cab. Now for those of you whom have never had the displeasure of travelling via taxicab in Toronto, let me tell you, a rollercoaster whips you around less. I don’t get motion sickness, but I was almost sick myself.

Our trip to the bus station did not particularly start off well, which should have alerted me to the disaster that lay ahead. As parents, it is sometimes common knowledge that upon leaving on a trip, you don’t always leave riding the waves of marital bliss. Packing for yourselves and a child is stressful enough, let alone after working 5-10 hour days and then head out for a 4 1/2 bus trip to see the in-laws. So needless to say, the hubby and I were pretty tense. We get in the cab quietly, instruct the cab driver where to go and buckle up. It starts off easy enough, but eventually the stop-go treatment of the city streets begin to catch up to us. My daughter is beginning to show the telltale signs.

“Mommy, at daycare today….” my little one starts by telling us about her day and everything she did at daycare. But eventually, the sentences get shorted and she begins to quiet down.

“You ok sweetheart? If you need to puke, tell Mommy ok?”

“I’m ok Mom,” she whispers. The thumb goes in the mouth and she leans to the side of her car seat.

“Ok, but let me know.” The car drives on, breaking and speeding, speeding and breaking some more. At this time, there is no more chatter, just 3 very tired, very agitated people sitting in the back of a cab, being whipped around.

My daughter looks at me. Her eyes are sad, glossy and I notice a trickle of drool form at the corner of her mouth. I point this to my husband that it is coming.

“We’re only a few minutes away sweetheart, just hold on,” he tries to reassure her, trying to get her to talk. It’s not working. She begins to whimper, her cheeks swell and the look of “oh no, I’m going to vomit” is written all over her face. Now most children would gladly throw up in a bowl, bucket, bag, whatever is handy rather than vomit on themselves. Now note that I said most children, because my daughter is not one of them. In fact, she flat-out refuses to vomit anywhere else but on herself and on me. She will hold it in if you put a bowl in front of her. It’s coming.

“Whhhaaaaaaa,” the vomit is out flying out like the Exorcist. Not just on her, but on me. We are literally pulling up to the bus station as this is happening. Only 2 minutes and we would have been in the clear. The cab driver is not impressed. He has a three-year old vomiting profusely in the back of his car (an extra $50 charge for Mommy and Daddy for clean-up) and two parents that are at each other’s throat, because one is covered in vomit and the other is mad at the mess. The driver hands us a dirty rag to assist in the clean up.

“Gee, thanks,” I say in my most sarcastic biting tone I can muster.

We finally get out of the cab, still covered in vomit with a pile of used baby wipes drenched in the mess in one hand, and a vomit covered baby in the other.

“I’m taking her to the bathroom to get cleaned up, you take the bags and the car seat and get them loaded on the bus,” I bark as I make my way through the crowd. Mind you the car seat is still wet and my hubby is liking my tone less and less. As I pass through the crowd, they part like the Red Sea, leaving a wide view of the two of us, soaked, stinky and miserable. We get to the bathroom and I have changed her into clean clothes and quickly washing her coat in the sink. Then it hits me, my other clothes are in the luggage. That is now being loaded onto the bus. Leaving me know without a clean outfit. Well this trip keeps getting better.

“Ok Mom.” She is quiet for a moment and then she says this; “What’s that smell?” Oh. My. God!

“That would be me,” I frown.

“You should have a shower,” she astutely observes. By this point, the ol’ blood pressure is rising.

We make it back to the line, where my husband is in no better a mood. “Why didn’t you get cleaned up? You are covered in puke.”

Thank you Captain Obvious. My scowl says enough. I’m sure the people behind us would have said something, but I do think they feared my reaction. I was covered in rancid vomit, without a change of clothes, a daughter who was now hungry because I am wearing her last meal and my husband feels the need to point out the obvious. Not going good at all!

We finally load the bus and sit in our seats. My daughter wants to sit with me. That’s fine. I smell like vomit and you can sit and smell it too. But after 10 minutes, the smell is too much for her (Oh, don’t like your own brand?) and she climbs over me to Daddy’s seat. But 5 minutes later, she wants me again, then Daddy, then Mom again and so on until I have had enough!

“Hun, take her!” I hand her over and pull out my music player and plug-in the ear phones. I am going to sleep. If I am asleep, I cannot smell myself. My daughter is crying, my husband is peeved and I am still, stilllll covered in toddler vomit. Oh, from the chunk there on my left sleeve, I see you at hot dogs at lunch today Princess. My husband taps me on my shoulder.

“She wants you,” he whispers. I put a single finger in the air without looking at him and close my eyes again. She is sitting with you, I thought to myself, I need to sleep this nightmare away. Hubby is not impressed by my silent objection.

After 3 very long, very smelly hours, we arrive in Kingston. We are sitting at the front of a double-decker bus and I see my sister waiting for us. She waves, but her smile soon fades when she sees our 3 faces. I load up our carry-on’s, have my daughter on one shoulder and we make our way down the stairs. My sister quickly rushes over to embrace her niece and before I can warn her, the smell hits her.

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Oh boy… you are tense even before you start out. I truly hope that this trip is much easier and that your daughter will grow out of this phase. I wish you luck for this trip. I remember getting car sick as a child on occasion but I never really had throw up issues.